


The Baker's Daughter

by Jack_of_all_trades



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: DFAB Peeta, DMAB Katniss, F/M, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Self-Sacrifice, Suicidal Thoughts, depictions of sexual harassment, not entirely canon compliant but i tried my dude, revised
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7072333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jack_of_all_trades/pseuds/Jack_of_all_trades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revised version of my work "The Baker's Daughter" originally posted on Fanfiction.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Baker's Daughter

The bed was cold again.

The grogginess of sleep was interrupted by the shuddering cold that racked Katniss's body. He cracked open an eye, craning his neck just slightly so and was able to catch the form of his younger sister as she quietly crept from the bedroom and into the kitchen, footsteps as light as a field mouse. Katniss rubbed a hand down his tired face and glanced at his father's old watch, the face cracked and the leather worn to a meager strip that hung off the post of the bed pathetically. Grimly Katniss decided it was about time he got going. He slipped out of bed just as silently as Prim had, making his way past his mother's bed and towards his clothes that hung on the back of the only chair in the room. He dressed quickly, chased by the cool morning, and slid into his leather boots that had molded themselves to his feet from years of wear. He resisted the urge to sigh in relief at the feeling of familiar leather giving way beneath his weight. Pulling his hair from the collar of his shirt he braided it hurriedly, slinging his hunting jacket over his shoulder and heading into the kitchen. It was still early, the gray skies of dawn shut out behind the drawn shutters and threadbare curtains. The Seam was still void of miners so early in the morning, and those who were awake remained behind closed doors and shut windows. Katniss understood why. He understood why today mothers would keep their children indoors and miners and everyone of working age would crawl from their beds with more reluctance than usual. An anxious air hung over the district.

The Reaping.

The thought of it was enough to set Katniss's pace. Throwing a quick goodbye to Prim and scowling at the ugly, fat stray she'd lovingly named Buttercup he was gone. Silently he ran towards the district's border; a useless chainlink fence that was once electrified, but now sagged under it's own weight, forgotten and useless. Katniss slipped under the fence with ease, something he'd been doing for many years by that point. He stopped only once to grab his bow and quiver from a dead log he'd hollowed before continuing his trek. For most, his and Gale's meeting place was lost to the world- if was only visible if you knew it was there. It was an overhand with blackberry bushes and tall, wild grass, shrouded from view by an outcropping of large rocks. It was hard to see, but provided a perfect perch to watch the Seam and it's occupants. By the time he'd arrived Gale was already there, a smug smile on his face as if he'd won a competition Katniss wasn't aware they were in. "Hey, Catnip," he greeted casually. 

Gale and Katniss looked a lot alike, to the point where often they were mistaken for siblings. They shared common Seam characteristics: dark, olive skin and inky hair, coupled with stormy gray eyes. Many people who lived in the Seam had them, and in fact it was a rarity to see people who _didn't._

"Hey- Prim left us some cheese," Katniss replied immediately, pulling a small portion of cheese, wrapped in a handkerchief from his pocket and settling besides Gale. Gale grinned widely, "Thank you, Prim," he praised loudly, accepting his portion of cheese with no small amount of enthusiasm. He set it aside, digging into his rucksack and revealing what looked like a fresh loaf of bread. Katniss' felt his jaw drop as he snatched it from Gale's hands. "No way, is this fresh?" he exclaimed, pushing his nose into the crust of the bread and inhaling. Gale snatched it back, "Don't drool all over it after the baker so nicely gave it to me for only two squirrels," he said, smile going wide at his hunting partner's look of disbelief, "Probably feeling extra sentimental today." he mused. Katniss paid him no mind, spreading the goat cheese Prim had left them across the bread and groaning his compliments to Mr. Mellark and Prim. Gale had picked some blackberries and was tossing them high into the air above his head, catching them in his mouth. As soon as Katniss was no longer occupied with chewing he tossed one at him. "Happy Hunger Games-" he prompted, and Katniss caught it between his teeth, feeling the ripe berry explode, "And may the odds be ever in your favor." he finished. Gale snorted and his eyes drifted away, down towards the Seam. He roughly elbowed Katniss in the side, who elbowed him back with a huff, "Look," Gale said, grinning, "It's the baker's daughter again." 

And there she was.

Peeta Mellark, the baker's daughter, a gem amongst the coal and soot of the Seam. Her yellow hair was cropped to rest just on her sturdy shoulders, her fair skin scrubbed clean and ruddy. She was, in Katniss's opinion, certainly very pretty with her stunning blue eyes and kind personality. She was the apple of every man's eye within the Seam, renowned for her good looks and relative wealth. She stopped at the Everdeen house as she did every three days, if Katniss had counted correctly, and knocked on the door several times, a pattern Katniss had come to recognize. Almost immediately after the door was flung open by Prim as she threw herself at the older girl, wrapping her skinny arms around Peeta and pulling her into a tight hug, smiling. Even from far above them Katniss could see her beam in return as the two linked arms, speaking soundlessly as they made their way back to the Mellark bakery. Prim adored Peeta and the cakes she decorated, and Peeta was kind enough to allow her to help once and awhile and show off the cakes she'd iced last night or hours before. Katniss couldn't recall how many times they'd walked past that bakery and Prim would wave to Mr. Mellark and wander to the window, gushing over the desserts they couldn't afford. 

A sharp bark of laughter drew Katniss from his thoughts. He looked to Gale, who'd been watching him with a smirk. "Geez, Catnip, with the way you're staring at her, you'd think you were trying to look through her clothes." he joked, grin growing more lecherous as Katniss felt his face heat up. "Shut up!" he cried, shoving Gale with both hands. Gale howled with laughter, gathering his gear and taking off into the woods before Katniss knew what he was doing. With a cry of his own, Katniss stood and gave chase.

* * *

 She could feel it. She could feel their eyes, their stares as she made her way deeper into the Seam. Their stares full of lust or envy or pure wonder made her skin crawl and she wrapped her arms around herself tightly, shivering. People always stared and it made her entirely too self-conscious of her flaws. Her hands were too big, her neck too short, she was short, and as her mother liked to tell her daily- fat. She couldn't provide for her family, not really. All she knew was baking and mindless household chores. In her own mind, she wasn't fit to be leave the bakery- it was where she belonged. Still, Peeta braved the Seam and the stares to get just a glimpse of him. A glimpse of leather boots disappearing into the trees, the sound of his game bag, empty but optimistic. Peeta was pulled from her thoughts when a sharp, ear piercing whistle disturbed the stillness of the morning. 

"You lost, girlie? Lookin' for a good time?" the old man called from his stoop, breaking into brays of laughter, eyes glazed over by liquor. Peeta felt herself stiffen as she attempted to curl into herself even more. She could understand why the man was drunk so early in the morning, however. It was away people distracted themselves, instead of facing the harsh reality they lived in they chose to drown themselves in a brown bottle. The Reaping. Another way the Capitol lorded over the rest of the districts, engraving fear into the bones of every man and women as they came of age to be chosen, or as time passed and their children became eligible for the Hunger Games. That's what the Capitol used to keep the districts in line, remind them of their place; fear and the Hunger Games were their ultimate weapons. Their ability to make twenty-four children, two from each district, a source of entertainment for them. They forced these tributes to fight in cruel and unreasonable conditions, locking them in a battle of desperation to win, to survive and bring glory to their district and show us how easily we would turn against one another for a chance at another day, another scrap a food or for a single ounce of power. 

Peeta paused before the Everdeen house. it was small and sat close to the ground, slanted and gray, whatever color it had been painted at first- if it had been painted at all- long washed away. The windows were dark with coal dust that seemed to coat everything in the Seam in it's thick, suffocating way. She knocked twice then paused and knocked once more. It was her and Prim's little secret; a way of identifying each other no matter what. Through the thin door she heard Prim's small feet dancing excitedly, and then the door was thrown open, Prim wrapping her arms around the older girl's waist in a crushing hug. Peeta returned the hug with just as much enthusiasm, burying her nose in Prim's blonde locks, the soft scent of soap drifting off her. Prim was like the little sister Peeta had never had, being the youngest of four children, all of her siblings who were male. Sometimes, Peeta wished she had been born a boy as well. She felt like she was unbearably difficult to deal with because she was a girl- or at least her mother gave her the impression that was why. It would make sense too, for her parents only had experience raising male children, and women, at least in some people's minds, were to be raised differently. It was a whole new experience for her parents and while she knew her father loved her, Peeta often wondered if it was the same for her mother, for when she looked at her all she saw in return was disappointment and disgust behind a lopsided sneer. Prim removed her face from the front of Peeta's dress. "How are you?" she asked at last. 

Peeta smiled in return. "I'm fine, thank you. And how are you?" she inquired. Prim's smile fell from her face briefly. "Nervous," she admitted and dimly Peeta realized that this was the first year Prim would be eligible for the Reaping. She chose to say nothing- it was a realistic fear that she also shared. Prim linked arms with her, putting on a brave face as they made their way out of the Seam and towards the Mellark bakery. "However, if it means helping provide for my family, I'll put my name in as many times as possible." she said courageously, though her lips trembled. Peeta knew however that Katniss most likely wouldn't allow that. Instead, she changed the topic of conversation. "I frosted some cakes last night; I think they turned out very well. My father was kind enough to make an extra one for us to frost together," she informed Prim, watching the wide grin split her small face. "Oh Peeta, your father is the best!" she exclaimed and Peeta laughed in agreement. 

Peeta admired Prim's strength. She had lost her father at a young age, too young to even recall really, and her mother who had began to shut down after his death, slowly becoming more and more despondent until she spoke to no one, simply sat in bed and stared out the window for hours on end. Prim had faced days where she could not eat or get out of bed from hunger pains, so thin and frail it seemed she would simply shatter at too rough of a touch, but that never stopped her- maybe because it was simply the reality she had dealt with for all of her life. She was so innocent and eager despite her despairing reality, and it inspired Peeta, she almost envied Prim for her strength. She knew she had no reason for her jealousy however. It was a fact that Peeta lived a far more comfortable life, with regular meals and baths, new clothing and not hand-me-downs obtained from the Hob of given to her by Peeta herself. But Prim had such incredible drive and inner strength, such unbridled enthusiasm and curiosity for the world around her that Peeta felt she had lost long ago. She felt drab and lifeless in comparison; useless and unhappy Peeta believed herself to be one thing- The baker's daughter. A title she hadn't had to work a day in her life for, given to her by circumstances out of her control, but she did her best to fulfill her role. 

Prim squeezed Peeta's hand. "Peeta, you seem really sad all of a sudden- is something wrong?" she asked, brow crinkling in concern. Peeta forced a tight smile, holding the door to the bakery open and letting Prim enter first. "Just thinking about this afternoon," she lied smoothly. She ran a finger between Prim's eyebrows, trying to smooth the crease manually, "Let's not think about that, though. Let's frost this cake!" she said and Prim agreed enthusiastically. They spent more than an hour frosting the cake, Peeta letting her do the piping and choose the design. Feeling sympathetic for the girl about to go through her first Reaping, Peeta let her lick frosting from the whisk and gave Prim a bun from the tray of freshly baked loaves. She pampered her more than usual, braiding her hair and helping her wash once more in preparation from the Reaping. When she attempted to give Prim her first Reaping dress, she refused profusely. "You've already done so much!" she protested and Peeta smiled amusedly. "Well _I_ certainly can't fit it. You would look so pretty, Prim! I insist that you wear it," Peeta said, nudging the dress back across the table and towards Prim once more. "Please, it would make me very happy to see you in it," she coaxed, and at last Prim finally relented. 

Shrugging on the dress with a touch or reluctance, Prim zipped up the back herself. It was a bit big on her, the back of the dress forming a duck tail. Peeta stood, heading to her meager collection of jewelry. "I have just the thing to finish it," she said, kneeling down and pinning a small emblem to the collar of Prim's dress. "Greasy Sae said it's a Mockingjay," she explained, smoothing out the folds in Prim's dress and smiling up at her, "Consider it a good luck charm." 

Prim spun, the gauzy material of the dress floating easily as she twirled. When she finally stopped a mischievous smile had spread across her face. "Now it's my turn to dress you up." she said. Peeta had began to protest before she saw the determined glint in Prim's eyes. "Alright," she relented easily. Prim skipped to Peeta's dresser and rooted through it's contents until she chose a white dress that was soft to the touch and fell just to Peeta's knees. With some guidance Peeta let Prim pin up her hair and brush back her bangs, weaving a dandelion into the locks just behind her ear. When she was finished she finally allowed Peeta to look in the mirror. "Very nice," Peeta complimented Prim's handiwork, adjusting a few pins in her hair. Peeta glanced at the clock on the wall. "You better go now," she warned, "Katniss will be expecting you soon so your family can walk to the square together." 

Prim made a small noise of agreement and hugged Peeta once more. "Thank you for helping me get ready," she said before she was dashing down the steps and through the bakery, startling Peeta's father as she rushed by. Peeta smiled softly at the sound of the front door banging shut, brushing her fingers across the soft surface of the dandelion, the smile fading from her face slowly. 

The Hunger Games. 

* * *

 Katniss frowned upon his arrival, and a quick search confirmed that his sister wasn't home yet. Just as the thought passed through his mind, the back door banged open and then shut and Prim flew in like a flustered dove. His eyebrows raised as he took in her appearance, "Did Peeta give you that?" he asked, gesturing to her dress. Prim beamed, doing a twirl and making her dress float once more. "She gave it to me for today, she wanted me to look nice for my first Reaping." she explained. Prim's smile dimmed slightly as she remembered what would be happening today. Two people of their district, maybe even people she knew would become tributes for the Hunger Games. Her lips became a tight line and at her brother's worried look she gave him a small smile. "You should go wash- you should look good for the Reaping as well." she stated matter-of-factly. Katniss sighed dramatically, attempting to ruffle Prim's hair, who dodged his advance with a squeal of 'no, I just did it!' He laughed at that and headed to the bathroom preparing for a quick scrub and was surprised to find a warm bath waiting. His mother was beside the tub, looking at her hands. 

"I ran a bath and set out some nice clothes for you." she said quietly. Katniss nodded stiffly, watching as his mother slowly exited the bathroom, silently shutting the door behind her. It was the first time he'd seen her out of bed for the past three days, and she looked as thin as ever. Her cheeks were swallow, and her eyes dark. She was pale from being inside all the time now. Katniss shook his head, climbing into the bath and scrubbing himself throughly, lathering soap into his hair and digging dirt out from beneath his nails. Only when the bathwater had turned cold and murky did he at last get out. He found his father's best slacks and a clean button up awaiting him and quietly he dressed himself, secretly reveling in the feeling of the worn clothes and the few remaining wisps of his father's aftershave; something Katniss knew his mother had buried away somewhere. He inhaled deeply as he tucked in his shirt, fingers braiding his hair with expert movements. Katniss grunted in response to the knock at the door, and Prim was clever enough to take that as an affirmation. She opened the door, peeking around it at him. "Are you ready?" she asked and Katniss quickly wiped away what ever remnants of his remorse may have remained on his face. He nodded and Prim was gone, the sight of the bunched up fabric at her waist as she left made Katniss laugh lightly. He steadied her with one hand before tucking the extra fabric into the elastic waistband of the dress. "Tuck in your tail, little duck." He teased. 

Prim huffed but still took his hand when he offered it, and on his other side his mother took his elbow. Together they made their way to the square where the Reaping was held every year, joining the flood of people as they filtered into the small space.  Grim faces surrounded them, some lined with coal and age, others young and terrified. A few older men and women wandered the crowd, faces dead of emotion, some in a haze of liquor, others taking bets secretly on who would be picked and sentenced to slaughter this year. A stage and multiple screens had been set up in front of the Justice Hall, a stony marble building that stood proudly amongst the rest of the squat, coal-lined buildings, it's steeple rising above the rest of the surrounding buildings low peaks. Effie Trinket stood on the stage, smile wide as her ridiculous metallic business suit glinted in the sun. The mayor and District 12's head peacekeepers sat behind her whispering amongst themselves and shooting fleeting looks at the unoccupied chair amongst them. 

"Welcome all, and a happy Hunger Games to you!" Effie trilled, her voice high and nasal with her heavy Capitol accent. Katniss snorted under his breath at her ridiculous appearance and downright inappropriate enthusiasm. Instead of listening Katniss craned his neck, hoping to catch sight of Prim. He saw her, twiddling her fingers in the section dedicated to the youngest eligible, looking pale and terrified. He tried to catch her eye but she was determinedly staring at the ground, mouth pressed into a thin, trembling line. He caught sight of Gale too, in the section for the oldest eligible. This was his final year and he had an considerable amount of slips in their with his name on it. He'd already been entered seven times for his age, but then he'd elected to enter several more times in order to get enough tesserae to support his family. Katniss had also entered his name of his own volition; his family needed whatever they could get for the year and for when hunting alone wasn't good enough to support them anymore.

Katniss barely caught the end of the rehearsed monologue that was read to them every year, that bored into his brain and every fiber of his being since he was old enough to remember. The long history of Panem, how it had risen from the ashes of what used to be modern society, how the Capitol created the districts, each one responsible for it's own trade and the supply of the Capitol, and the bombing of District 13 when the uprisings had began. The Hunger Games were a reminder of that, Katniss could hear that part clearly in his head, a way to remind the people of the twelve remaining districts just how immense the power the Capitol held over them was. The games were a reminder of how the Capitol could do whatever they pleased- how any Capitol citizen could waltz into their houses whenever they felt, and how powerless they were against the fact. For if a hand was raised against any citizen of the Capitol in violence or defense, there would be hell.

There would be the Hunger Games. 

* * *

 Peeta scrunched her nose as Effie gave a high, falsetto laugh that made the microphone screech with every breathy syllable. She'd never really found the Capitol accent appealing, and lacked their training to where it was no longer something they noticed as well. She despaired having to listen to the history of Panem each year, to each voice crack, to being blinded by Capitol fashion. This year at least she could watch as Trinket tried to subtly adjust her wig as it began to slide sideways on her head. The only living District 12 victor stumbled on stage the moment her speech was done; almost as if he too was trying to spare himself from listening to the agonizing monologue once more. He was drunk as he was every year, tripping over thin air before approaching the microphone and giving Effie a large, sloppy kiss on the cheek, the sound of it picked up and magnified by the microphone. Peeta covered her grin with her hand, passing off her laugh as a couch before attempting to straighten her face once more. The edges of her mouth betrayed her and curled upwards in amusement. 

She sobered up quickly as Effie wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and quickly announced, "Ladies first!" Into the microphone, making the abused thing whine loudly. She trotted to the large glass bowl that had the name of every child from age twelve to eighteen in it, some more than others. Peeta, having three older brothers who were still eligible and being from a relatively well off family, hadn't need to enter her name more than the required amount. Effie's gloved fingers skimmed the surface of the folded paper slips before she plucked one from the middle, unfolding it gingerly. Peeta could feel her heart pounding in her chest, making it hard to breathe. Effie cleared her throat, before leaning into the microphone once more. 

"Primrose Everdeen." she cooed.

Something inside her went cold and numb, spreading through her body like poison and settling heavily in the pit of her stomach. She looked towards Katniss, his clenched jaw and wide eyes, the rapidly paling color of his face. The tension in his neck looked painful as he stood ram rod straight, looking as if he was physically restraining himself from doing something rash. One of the boys in the same section as him had his hand on his shoulder firmly, as if to plant him to his spot. Peeta knew Katniss would volunteer in an instant if he was able. It was as if everything was moving in slow motion as Prim was escorted to the stage, her face projected on the screen for all the eyes of Panem to see. There were tears in her eyes and her knobby little hands were bunched in the skirt of her dress that was too large for her tiny frame and formed a duck tail in the back.  Peeta couldn't hear anymore, she couldn't breathe, her head felt like it had been put in a vice. Her lips were moving but she couldn't hear herself, let alone anyone else. Few people around her stared in shock as finally she regained some of her senses and could hear herself. 

"I volunteer as tribute."  

Her voice shook but it was loud and called the camera's attention as if focused on her face. Peeta could see herself on the large screen overhead, her eyes were wide and she was white as a sheet, sweating visibly even beneath the cloudy, gray sky. The crowd parted silently as the peacekeepers approached, one on either side as the escorted her to the stage. She caught a glimpse of Katniss out of the corner of her eye, his jaw working overtime in a manner that was too painful to watch. Instead she focused on Prim, who was openly sobbing now, face turned downwards, entire body shuddering with her hiccuping sobs. 

"Come along dearie," Effie beckoned, an impatient twitch at the corner of her smile as she offered a hand to Peeta. With more strength then she'd expected Trinket hauled her on stage, thrusting the mic into her face. "Your name, dear?" she sung, and Peeta saw actual excitement in Effie's eyes. Her tongue felt like lead as she leaned into the mic, looking out into the crowd of people who probably only knew her as 'the baker's daughter' and croaked, "Peeta Mellark." 

"Peeta, no!" Prim protested, running to the older girl, burying her face in the very dress she'd picked out that morning. "No, no, no!" she repeated. Gale came forward and took Prim by the waist, lifting her off stage and carrying her away, tearful and shrieking. He nodded at Peeta, face solemn and full of respect. Effie smiled once again, but she looked more somber, more befitting of the situation. "And so we have our female tribute!" she announced, heading towards the bowl with the names of every boy in the district, practically filled to the brim. 

She didn't waste time with theatrics, picking the first one her fingers touched and unfolding it with a small amount of haste. Before she'd even read the name Peeta's heart had sunken. She felt like hyperventilating, a death sentence on her head. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, but this time it was different than how they usually looked at her- it was as if they were seeing, meeting, her for the very first time. She was petrified. Peeta wasn't qualified for the games; she had no survival skills to speak of. She had lived a relative life of comfort, her only skills were baking and household chores. Her mother's face flashed before her eyes as she frowned, calling her the 'perfect housewife'. It was true to a degree, and nothing Peeta knew about housework or icing would help her in the Hunger Games, that she knew. Effie's voice shattered the tension in the square and at last, those stares left her and Peeta felt like she could breathe again. Her relief was short lived however as her entire being lurched as Effie announced, "Katniss Everdeen!" 

* * *

 Katniss made his way towards the stage without the help of peacekeepers, eyes forward and staring holes through the curtain behind the stage unrelentingly. He'd bitten his tongue earlier to keep from yelling out to his sister, and now the taste of copper filled his mouth. Once he'd reached the stage only then did he direct his stare at Effie, who seemed to wilt slightly under his gaze. "Your name dearie?" she asked, and he repeated it once again for Panem to hear. He stood stone faced next to Effie who'd become flustered. Adjusting her wig once more she said, "Well, I'd bet my buttons that was your sister earlier wasn't it?" she said with a giggle that died hastily. Katniss nodded, silence resolute. He glanced outwards at the crowd and his eyes caught the lens of the camera, staring into it and making eye contact with every citizen of Panem. His jaw tightened once more. Effie's hands fluttered about her nervously before she regained her composure, stepping up the microphone and with her strong Capitol accent announced District 12's tributes. 

Silence followed in the square. There wasn't a cough or a clap as eyes, many the same shade as his own stared back at him. District 12 as a whole had fallen silent, many of the people remembering the boy who had jogged through that very same square with his game bag on the way to the Hob more than once, directly or indirectly feeding their families with what he brought back and traded or sold. They remembered the girl from behind the counter of the Mellark bakery who would smile and listen to the woes of any poor soul who'd wander in, who was like an elder sister to their children. Slowly, as if in a trance, all of District 12 moved in synch, tipping three fingers to their lips before holding them out to the the two on stage. It was a symbol of respect, a way of saying goodbye to a loved one. A last wish, it was District 12's gift goodbye to the baker's daughter and the man who'd fed their families, whether he knew it or not. 

He was rushed off stage and into the Justice Building by peacekeepers, the doors shutting behind them with a resounding slam. He was separated from Peeta and brought into a room, some official's office, and was told to wait. When he was finally alone only then did Katniss break down. His breath shuddered and the pain that had been growing in his chest made him curl in on himself, settling heavily into a vacant chair. His eyes and nose stung and a sob attempted to suffocate him. Katniss stared down at his shaking hands as they swam in his vision, and overwhelming relief flooded him as he thought at least it was him and not Prim. When her name had been called his entire body had gone cold, his vision whited out as she was led on stage her terrified face magnified on the screen towering above them. It would have been her, if it hadn't been for Peeta. A lump formed in his throat as he thought of the baker's daughter. How many times would he owe his own life and the life of his family to that girl, he thought. How many times must he be reminded of his debt to the Mellark girl? 

The door swung open and Prim rushed in, followed after much more slowly by their money. At the sight of him Prim collapsed on the carpet at his feet, sobbing. She wrapped her arms around his waist and cried into the leg of his pants, shedding the tears Katniss could not. His mother helped Prim back to her feet, silent tears streaking down her cheeks. When he stood Prim clung to him once more, short of breath and inhaling rapidly. At the realization she was hyperventilating Katniss tried to calm her down. "Hey, Prim, it's gonna be alright, okay? Gale will bring you game and herbs, and you can sell milk from your goat." he soothed, hands brushing through her hair. Prim sniffled, "I'm not worried about that. You- you have to promise you'll try to make it back, okay?" she said, voice cracking near the end of her sentence. Katniss gave her a weak smile in return as he nodded, "I'll try," he promised. 

Prim grabbed the front of his shirt and pinned something to it. It was a brooch of sorts, a golden Mockingjay caught mid-flight in the middle, an arrow cradled between it's claws. Prim gave him a watery smile, "A good luck charm," she explained. Katniss kissed the top of her head before looking up and making eye contact with his mother who watched her two children silently, arms wrapped around her thin, trembling frame. Katniss took her by the shoulders, steadying her and making her meet his gaze. "You can't shut down again," he told her firmly, squeezing her shoulders when she looked away. "I won't-" she whispered, jumping when Katniss forcefully cut her off. "You can't! Prim needs you now; you can't shut everything out again, not like when dad died." he told her. Peacekeepers entered and dragged Prim out in tears, his mother following after them, crying silently into the folds of her shawl. Before the door could close entirely Gale burst in, making a beeline for Katniss and grabbing him by the shoulders, his hold tight and painful. "Katniss, you've got to survive." he said seriously. 

"Gale-" 

"Listen, if you can just get your hands on a bow I _know_ -" 

"Gale!" Katniss said more forcefully, forcing his hunting partner, his _best_   _friend_ , to pause and look him in the eye. The calm he'd regained from speaking with his family again was starting to crumble. "It's not the same as when we're hunting, Gale. I'm not killing animals, I-I'm killing _people_ ," he stuttered, "They have lives and families waiting for them to come home- I _can't!"_

Gale's grip on his shoulders softened. "So do you, Catnip. There's plenty of people who need you here, at home. You have a family too; a family that needs you." he said firmly. The door opened again and a peacekeeper barked that time was up. When Gale refused to move two of them entered, grabbing him by the arms. "You'll take care of them, right?" Katniss called after him and Gale nodded, holding his desperate stare with one of his own, "Of course!" he yelled back, and the door slammed shut. Katniss was alone once again. 

* * *

 When Katniss boarded the train to the Capitol Peeta was already on board, waiting in the dining car with Trinket and their soon to be mentor. She sat in the chair furthest away from everyone else and closest to the window, head turned so no one could see her face. The sight of her brought the lump that had formed in his throat back, and Katniss bit his lip. He sat down as well after a pointed look from Effie. She cleared her throat, "Well, as you may already know, this is Haymitch Abernathy, winner of the second Quarter Quell. He'll be your mentor for the games," she explained, nose high in the air and smile plastered on her face. Katniss noted that she'd had time to right her wig once more. Haymitch studied Katniss with bleary eyes. "So this year we've got a pretty boy," he said bluntly, eyes moving to Peeta to take her in as well, "and a baker." he finished. He snorted, "District 12 is sure to win this year." he stated sarcastically.

Effie gasped as if she'd been personally offended and Katniss glared at the older man. Peeta stood suddenly, drawing all eyes to her. She smoothed her dress out, eyes dry and gaze forward. "Excuse me," she said softly, "I'm going to my room now," she said, leaving the dining cart before anyone could respond in turn, closing the door behind her. Haymitch scoffed, teeth clinking against his class of spirits. "Apparently she thinks she's royalty, too." 

Katniss made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, calling Haymitch's attention to him once more. He raised an eyebrow, "Oh, sorry, did I insult your girlfriend?" he asked, before knocking back another drink with a short laugh, "Imagine that, the tragic star-crossed lovers of District 12," he chuckled to himself and Effie tutted at him for his rude behavior. Katniss didn't deem the man's quip worthy of response, instead turning to look out the window himself. Already he despised his supposed mentor, but if it meant winning and being able to return home he would put up with Haymitch. For his family. 

* * *

 Only once she was safely inside her own room did Peeta collapse. The fibers of the carpet dug into her knees as her head swam, thoughts focused on only one thing. Katniss had been wearing the pin she'd given to Prim when he'd entered the cart. The good luck charm, she'd called it. Peeta snorted into her knees at the irony of it all. She'd managed to save Prim from the games, but Katniss was there with her too, and he had so much more to live for than she did. He had a home back in District 12, people who depended on him. What did she have? Peeta thought of herself as easily replaceable. If she were to die, her family would mourn of course, Prim as well maybe, but life would go on without her. Katniss had a role in the community, if he were to die to her it felt like the entire district would grind to a halt. Not for the first time she wished she'd been born male- she could have volunteered in his place at the Reaping then. The district could still go on.

Peeta remembered what her mother had said to her before she'd boarded the train, her cold hands cupping Peeta's face as she smiled thinly. 'Maybe District 12 will have a victor this year.' she'd said, and Peeta knew she wasn't talking about her, she was talking about Katniss. Peeta agreed with her mother for once- District 12 _would_ have it's victor this year. She was determined to bring Katniss back home, where he was needed. She wasn't sure how she could be of use to him, she didn't have any skills or a plan in general, but she knew Katniss had to be the one to win. Her hands bunched up in the fabric of her reaping dress as she attempted to calm her nerves. Katniss had been wearing her pin, and it would serve as a reminder to her of why she was here. 

So Katniss could go home. 

A blanket of calm settled over her. Peeta had known she was going to die the moment her voice had betrayed her, but now she had accepted it. She was entering the arena, but wasn't coming back out. Katniss would, however. She would die with the title she was born with, the baker's daughter, and Katniss would return home the hero of District 12.

Because the odds _would_ be in his favor, with his skill and adaptability and with her on his side. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So that was a thing huh. More to come


End file.
